


the boathouse

by daredoll



Series: across three rings [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4356596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daredoll/pseuds/daredoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you trying to seduce me, Ms. Mitchell?” he asks, barely raising his lips off her skin so that she can feel the vibrations of his words against her neck. She shivers at the sensation and suddenly her cheeks aren’t the only parts of her blushing hot. </p><p>“God yes. Please tell me it’s working.”</p><p>|| in which a small town girl and an archery ace steal a night together before the circus whirls him away ||</p>
            </blockquote>





	the boathouse

When she comes downstairs to find her three siblings sitting at the kitchen table in various states of breakfast-eating, Laura knows that this is her best chance to ask her question. She walks casually to the fridge and pulls the waffles out of the freezer, and it’s just after she’s popped them into the toaster that she coughs.

“Hey, guys I need the keys for this weekend,” and _thank God_ her voice doesn’t crack. Lila snorts as her elder brothers raise their eyebrows at each other, Levi looking far more concerned than Lucas.

“Good for you, little sister,” Lila comments proudly, already digging into her purse. When she finds her key ring she tosses it over the counter with a wink. Levi clenches his jaw as Lucas goes for his lanyard, stopping just short of removing his own key at the sight. He mouths “what?” at his older brother, but Levi’s already clearing his throat.

“Laura, what do you need the keys for?” he asks, sounding the opposite of casual. Laura squints at him.

“You know why I need the keys. Don’t make this weird, okay? You’ve been asking for my key since you were like 12.”

“Hey, I was 16 when I first got the boathouse to myself!”

“And I’m 18 so I’m definitely allowed to ask for them by now.”

“It’s not about age, Laura. We’re just,” he begins to motion to the other two, but Lila’s “nope” and Lucas’s subtle nod has him rethinking it. “Okay,  _I’m just_ worried about you. You barely know Circus Boy and now you’re taking him to the boathouse?”

“It’s my decision, Levi,” she huffs in response.

“I know it’s your decision. I just want to make sure it’s not one that leaves you in tears, okay? Seriously, there’s no ‘you’re my little sister so you have to remain pure forever’ bullshit here. Fuck as many guys as you want, just don’t let them be guys who don’t respect you.” Her eldest brother is so sincere that Laura can feel her earlier irritation with him dissolving away like nothing. “I can’t deal with another summer of you sitting by the phone waiting for him to call and doing your little ‘Laura sigh’. If I hear that sigh even one more time I will find that godforsaken circus wherever the hell it is and kill that carnie motherfucker, I swear to God.”

“Actually, at that point I think it would be sisterfucker,” Lila pipes in and Lucas nearly chokes on his cereal.

“Can we please stop talking about my baby sister getting laid because I think I’m about to throw up,” her middle brother begs as soon as he’s cleared his throat of Cheerio’s.

* * *

“Just the daughter of a cop, huh?” he asks, and she swats his arm with a laugh.

“Clint!” and it’s amazing how she can stretch his name into two syllables so easily. “Plenty of people have boats.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, girlie, I didn’t realize that boats had four walls and a roof,” his voice sounds oddly nervous despite his teasing, like somehow the more money she might have actually means something. Still, when her hand bumps his as they approach the boathouse he accepts the familiar linking of fingers without any other prodding.

“Welcome to the boathouse!” Laura gestures grandly with her free hand to the structure and ignores his comment because this is special. The boathouse is special to Laura, and she doesn’t share it with just anyone. The boathouse is late summer nights with her friends, early mornings with her siblings, and the promise that someday it will be all hers, just like it was her sister’s before her and her brothers’ even before that. The boathouse is a place that is private, where you can hide from the real world for a night, or even just a few hours, and Clint is the first boy she’s brought along with her.

The circus boy stops next to her, gaze appraising and maybe judgmental, but when he looks back at her his expression softens. “It’s gorgeous,” he decides, but the way his eyes lock on hers seems to imply that the boathouse isn’t exactly what’s on his mind at the moment.  

“Is that so?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer as she tugs him to the door, proudly producing a key before opening it for them. Inside lies the perfectly ordered kitchenette to the right, already stocked with breakfast fixings by Laura herself, a small bathroom in one corner, full to the brim with freshly laundered towels, and of course the bed, fitted with clean sheets and matching white coverlet. She hopes it isn’t too obvious that she’s been preparing for this night all week, and because of this her words are extra fast as they escape her lips. “So, I was thinking we could go swimming? I brought you a suit. It was supposed to be my brother’s but it was too small so I thought it would work for you?” she explains, fishing through her tote bag to find it, and then back tracking immediately, “He’s like a football player, so, you know, not calling you small or anything, promise.”

He’s still a little busy scoping out the boathouse to get too offended, though, and as eager as she is, it isn’t hard to just shove the suit in his hands and back over to the bathroom. “You can change out here, and I’ll change in there, okay? Okay.” She pops into the room and takes a deep breath to calm her nerves before pulling out her own suit from the bottom of the bag. The white bikini is new, and she had fretted over the color a tad too much to not be embarrassed about it. Red had seemed a little too flashy, black too mature, and admittedly the white looked a little virginal, but by now it was practically her signature to him so she couldn’t say no.

With shaky hands she slips off her dress and slips on the new white nylon and spandex, smoothing out the bottom in the mirror and patting her hair down in case of frizz. With a giddy smile, she makes sure that old door doesn’t squeak as she opens it and is immediately met with a vision from her own personal fantasies. She’s literally never going to get used to how good Clint Barton can look without a shirt.

As she tiptoes up to him, she notices something that the grease paint and circus lights cover up, and Laura can’t keep a hand from reaching out to run her hand across it.

“Oh my god you have freckles?” He stiffens under her touch, but she’s too enamored by the new discovery to really notice. “You have freckles. That’s—“ and she’s about to say “adorable” or “cute” like she has about those of her younger cousins, but seeing those constellations stretched across taut shoulders and a perfectly toned back completely changes her outlook, along with making her mouth suddenly dry. “Hot, actually?” Laura finishes, her voice with an edge of wonder to it. “Why. Is. Everything. About. You. So. Attractive?” she asks, pressing tender kisses to the freckled skin almost worshipfully.

“Just lucky, I guess.” He laughs, and she can just hear the pleased smile stretching across his features in his tone. Planting one last kiss to his well-muscled back, Laura slips out from behind him and heads for the door.

“Come on, the mosquitoes are absolute murder as soon as the sun sets,” she informs him when there are no other footsteps following her own. Turning her head to see what’s taking so long, though, she’s met with the sight of an archer just barely fighting a blush, and a smirk grows on her face. “You like my suit?” she asks, once again daring him to make the first move. Laura would laugh at the way Clint’s first steps towards her are almost cautious, at how easily he takes her bait, but there’s something in his eyes that has her stomach tight instead. He finally stops once their bodies are mere inches from each other, and she presses back into the wood of the door behind her more as a way to keep from losing herself completely in the way he looks at her than anything else.

“It’s okay,” he teases huskily, but just like the look in his eyes there’s something else unmistakably there in his voice. Unable to resist, and not really wanting to anyway, her arms reach up to wrap themselves around his neck, and her line of sight involuntarily lowers to his lips.

“You know, we could always just swim in the morning,” she offers, a pretty blush staining her cheeks. Preparing the boathouse for a night together takes much less courage than actually admitting that that’s what she wants, and she half-expects him to laugh in her face. Instead the hint of a smile grows on his face and Clint ducks his head to rake his lips against the corner of her jaw, just below her ear, barely on her neck and just where he knows she’s weakest. At her sharp intake of breath he practically purrs against her skin.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Ms. Mitchell?” he asks, barely raising his lips off her skin so that she can feel the vibrations of his words against her neck. She shivers at the sensation and suddenly her cheeks aren’t the only parts of her blushing hot.

“God yes. Please tell me it’s working.” Threading her fingers through his hair, she leads his head back up to hers slowly, still somehow nervous of his rejection, and once again he does nothing but exactly what she wants.

“Like you even had to try,” her circus boy says simply. When his lips meet hers most doubts melt away and all that matters is that finally she knows what it’s like to have his body totally pressed against hers.  She pulls him in to her and even breathing seems less important than him being as close as possible. His fingers are tentative around her waist, as if he still isn’t entirely sure if he’s allowed to touch her bare skin, but when she nips lightly at his lower lip they finally settle there firmly.

Sometimes she forgets how much she loves his hands, how sure they are, how different the callouses on them feel against her skin, how good they feel on her. Now, though, when they’re sliding up her naked back she can’t help but remember as she arches into his touch.  His tongue traces the seam of her lips and she’s more than happy to part them for him. Her grip on his hair grows rougher and there’s nothing cautious about the way his hands rove from just below the strap of her bandeau to the small of her back. Still it’s not enough and her hold slackens as she lowers her hands to trace the muscles of his chest, pads of her fingertips exploring the abs that first drew her in. He breaks away for a labored breath and she steals the opportunity to lower her mouth down his throat to his collarbone, lavishing extra attention on the sensitive skin there and barely suppressing a grin at his sudden shortness of breath.

“You fight dirty,” he gets out, neck arched back in a way that makes it impossible for her to resist keeping her lips there. Instead she steals his move from before and answers him without moving them from their work.

“Maybe you should, too.” Her fingers ghost lower to the lines of his hips and the way his body shudders under their ministrations has a heat growing beneath her skin. This boy has far too strong a hold on her, but she’s too addicted to him to ever want to break it.

“Fuck Laura,” he mutters, but he also takes her advice and mutters it into her ear. His fingers move up to deftly fiddle with the ties of her swimsuit top, and it’s her turn to shiver. At the not-so-subtle action, though, he pauses and his voice, though strained, is uncannily serious. “Just tell me if you want me stop.”

“The only thing I want is for you to keep going,” she answers, lips finally leaving his throat only to reconnect with his own. Clint responds eagerly, and in seconds the straps are untied and the bandeau is on the ground beneath them. His fingers are light on her breasts at first, tenderly tracing over the swell of them before brushing a thumb over each pert nipple, and there’s so much need in the moan she lets out against his mouth that she’s glad it’s swallowed by their kiss. Heat pools at her core at his simple ministrations, and when his sure fingers palm them tighter she has to press her crown back into the door as he elicits a pleasured sigh from her lips. “If you keep doing that I’m not going to be able to keep standing much longer,” she murmurs, legs already weak, and after one last graze his hands leave her breasts to run tantalizingly down her body to lift her up. Her legs immediately wrap tightly around his waist in response and a contented hum passes her lips. “Much better.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clint teases once again, but his sure steps towards the bed falter when she wraps  her arms around his neck and pulls their naked chests flush against each other. If anything though, his strides are longer and faster once he recovers, and god does she love how low the timbre of his voice is when he replies. “You’re going to kill me, you know that?”

“Only if you return the favor,” she grins as her back meets the mattress and the smirk on his lips almost has her regretting it.  He follows her onto the bed and crawls over her only to stop with his lips just brushing hers.

“I feel like that’s a challenge,” he threatens before sealing it with a kiss and returning his hand to her breast. Lifting his lips off hers, he winks once before lowering them to press open kisses down from her jawline to her chest, only stopping to take her nipple in his mouth and suck lightly. Gripping the comforter tightly in her fist, Laura can only gasp his name. After rolling his tongue around it and teasing the bud with his teeth until Laura is practically writhing beneath him, he releases it with a proud grin only to move over to the next one with equal attention, this time grazing his teeth harder over it carefully, eyes trained on her expression the whole time. Laura’s eyes shut tight, her lips part to emit quiet pants of  _ecstasy_ , but the way her knuckles are white in her grip on the sheets are a far better indication of the feelings pulsing through her body. That or the pressure growing steadily in her core. For a moment Laura wonders if she might just come from his mouth on her breast

Deeming her breasts thoroughly attended to, Clint raises his lips upwards again, this time paying special attention to her neck, as his roughened fingers burn a trail down her stomach to her inner thigh, she swears she can feel goosebumps raising along her flesh at the mixing sensations. His name is shallow past her lips again as his digits inch up slowly to the edge of her bottoms, and she loses her breath as they coast along the fabric above her heat. Her hips buck slightly at the teasing, and she can feel her suit getting damper as want coils within her even stronger than before. “You win,” she whispers, voice higher than before, but his fingers keep tracing the ultra-sensitive skin.

“Does that mean you want me to stop?” he asks, shifting in his position ever so slightly to again look her in the eyes daringly. She can only shake her head no, pupils dilated with lust and fingers abandoning their hold on the bed to find his and guide them under the nylon purposefully.  

“Please, I’ve been dreaming of your fingers in me ever since I first felt them,” she admits, barely biting back a whine as he skims them along her lips. He needs no further invitation before slipping two digits into her.

“Glad to know we had the same thought.” His fingers pump into her at a steady rhythm, callouses providing an extra amount of friction that has her squirming beneath him, caught between never wanting him to stop and needing a release so badly that her pleasure borders on pain. “Of course, mine wasn’t nearly so graphic.”

“Oh, shut up and make me come,” she whines, and his short laughter does nothing more than add a tantalizing vibration running through her.

“Someone’s getting demanding,” he teases, but his pace increases, a thumb reaching up to stroke her clit carefully. At the added stimulus there, her walls contract harshly, the pressure building at her core and crumbling in on itself, flooding her with pleasure. It’s all she can do to bite down on her lower lip to contain a lusty whimper as her muscles tense and release within her, toes curling as she loses herself in the feeling of his fingers slowing drawing her out tenderly.

Breaths still short she can’t help but push herself up slowly to meet his face, hands grasping at his neck as her lips find his hungrily, the kiss full of gratitude and want and maybe even love. “You’re amazing,” she murmurs against his lips and between her pants when she breaks away from him.

“I know,” he replies, the side of his mouth quirking up as he goes back to tracing his fingers almost absentmindedly along her inner thigh. “But what’s with the lip-biting thing? I mean, don’t get me wrong it’s sexy as hell, too, but…”

Laura’s face goes red, and she moves to tuck a stray lock of her behind her ear self-consciously. “My, um, ex used to say I was too loud,” she explains bashfully, but Clint’s quick to pipe in before she can say more.

“Guy sounds like a dick,” he tells her before his own cheeks tinge pink and his eyes shift down almost shyly. “I, uh, I wanna hear you.”

“Yeah?” He misses her lips forming into a proud smirk, but as her hand ghosts down his slick chest to just trace along his length through his swim trunks, he stiffens. “Do you want me?” she asks, voice alluring as she ducks her head to suck at the top of his throat.

He shudders under her hand and just barely nods, voice hitching in his reply. “Shit yes.”

Her fingers skirt around the waist of his shorts before slowly beginning to inch them down. “I want you, too.” He follows her as she leans back, his own fingers looping through her bottoms to tug them down as he shifts to help her finish the job with his own. He’s hot in her hands as she reaches into the bedside table for a condom and runs it up his member. He’s caught somewhere between hesitant and needy as she guides him between her thighs, and Laura lets herself whimper as he slides between her folds.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans into her neck as he thrusts himself deeper, and she meets him halfway, grinding into him with a breathy moan. He fills her completely. She can feel him holding back, keeping the pace slow.

“I need you. _Faster_ ,” she begs, hand reaching up to cup his face as she kisses him quickly. “You’re not gonna break me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says again, his voice recognizably hoarser as he rocks into her harder, each thrust pounding into her with more force until she can barely keep up. Her gasps and whines come easier now, and she can barely keep up as each thrust sends her closer and closer to the edge. Her fingers clutch at his back hard as another whimper leaves her mouth and Clint shivers above her. “Your ex was a fucking liar,” he bites out, but her laugh quickly turns into another moan as he sheathes himself within her once again.

“God, Clint, I’m so,” she starts, but her breath hitches. The pressure in her core is so strong that each stroke is almost excruciating. “I’m so close.”

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs, voice so much lower than before that she can barely hear it above their bodies coming together and apart, and the feel of his lips against her neck again has it so that she can barely breath. “Can you come for me, baby?”  

His wet mouth against her neck, his each thrust hitting her deeper and deeper, his voice reverberating through her system, everything comes together in one moment of pure bliss, and she cries out as her nerves alight in fire. Even as she feels like she’s burning up, the embers sate her like nothing else as she clenches around him and rides out her own orgasm just as his hits him. Even through the daze of endorphin coursing through her once again, she can’t keep her eyes off him trembling above her, at how this boy who always has a quip is suddenly soundless and it’s quite possibly the hottest thing she’s ever seen.  

Both sated and content, she curls herself into his side, body too spent from their romp to be bothered to pull the covers over them, and they’re both heated enough as it is anyway. Her fingers trace each line of his chest again as his tangle themselves in her hair, and she thinks he must almost be asleep when she opens her mouth. “I like it when you call me baby,” she says softly, a tender smile gracing her face, and it does nothing but grow when he places a light kiss to her forehead.

“I like it when you call me Clint,” he says, and Laura doesn’t realize until she’s just nodding off that it isn’t just a joke. He may be the “Amazing Hawkeye” to everyone else, but to her he’s grown to be so much more.

**Author's Note:**

> alright that's some of the world's fluffiest smut right there tbh  
> this was going to be just another chapter of Across Three Rings but then I remembered the days when smut made me hella uncomfortable so now it's just a short interlude here for those who do enjoy reading it  
> if you'd like to offer me some commentary that'd be the bomb dot com but if not i'm just glad you read it and hopefully liked it


End file.
